


Love Bug

by sweeterthankarma



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweeterthankarma/pseuds/sweeterthankarma
Summary: “How’d you know I was sick?”Tahani purses her lips. “I had a feeling. You slept through breakfast, and I made waffles.”





	Love Bug

**Author's Note:**

> The best thing about The Good Place is how any story can ultimately exist in any plane of existence, in any universe. This fic could fit in any of the reboots, or in Tahani and Eleanor's actual lives, or in their second chances on Earth. Personally, I imagined it on Earth (because getting sick in "the Good Place" would be a pretty easy tip off that it was the Bad Place), but regardless of wherever you want to place this fic, all you need to know is that these two are in love, as they should be.

When Eleanor wakes, the only reason she knows it’s four in the morning only because the clock on her bedside table has never been so blaringly bright in the history of  _ ever. _ She shifts to block her eyes with her pillow and when she breathes in her throat stings, a feeling close to sandpaper rubbing against her esophagus inspiring her to mutter a string of expletives— or, at least try to. No sound leaves her mouth, her voice gone in a matter of hours, so instead she punches a lazy fist at the edge of the mattress and gives up when the movements don’t equate to the frustration she feels. 

Eleanor really, really hates getting sick. 

It’s because of her childhood, as most things are. Her mother would always send her to school regardless of how much she would sneeze and cough, even on the times when she clearly wasn’t playing hookie, and Eleanor had seethed. She’d mope through the halls in irritation, fatigued and knowing full well that Donna was at home drinking margaritas and watching soap operas, taking the day off herself as an excuse to recharge, god forbid her child got her sick. Fifteen years later, Eleanor still holds a fierce grudge. She, of all people, should not have held a perfect attendance record in elementary school.

    “So much resentment in your tiny body,” her girlfriend Tahani would say whenever she’d reflect on these times. Sometimes it’s said endearingly and other times with a frown on her gorgeous face, but either way, Eleanor rolls her eyes in response, knowing it’s true. She used to take pride in her determination, and while she still does— it’s in her nature as a self-proclaimed Arizona trashbag, after all— she’s learned to soften herself, at least a little, especially when it comes to Tahani.

She’s laying beside Eleanor now, peaceful and quiet because of course she doesn’t snore, she probably doesn’t even have the ability to do so. Discouraged with her sudden enervation, Eleanor nudges against Tahani’s side, selfishly hoping she’ll wake up. When she doesn’t, Eleanor feels both disappointed and relieved; it’s too early in the morning to be up, especially when they had a late night anyways, but right now sleep isn’t welcoming her back again and she really just wants a glass of water. She knows Tahani will bring it to her, and she’s never really had someone at her willing disposal like this. 

She doesn’t use Tahani though, of course not. She would never even dream of it, and that statement alone is proof that she’s transformed into a better person thanks to her. It’s a new thing for Eleanor to love someone and know with complete certainty that they share the feelings in return, and while she can’t deny that it scares her sometimes, she also can’t deny that she absolutely adores her life when she’s fortunate enough to be so happy, with someone like Tahani Al-Jamil of all people. 

It’s beyond Eleanor’s wildest hopes, if she’s being honest, but now her standards are higher than they’ve ever been and she doesn’t think, god forbid they ever break up, that she’d be able to love anyone else with the same intensity. Even on the days they butt heads or don’t see eye to eye, they come back to each other with forgiveness and affection, and it’s everything Eleanor’s ever needed— to be validated, to be worthy, to be wanted. 

And she wants to be wanted now, to be comforted and eased back to sleep by her love, but Tahani sleeps easily beside her and Eleanor can’t bring herself to wake her. Besides, she’s been sicker. (Convenience store tacos are  _ never _ a good idea, even if you have a buy one get one free coupon.)

Eventually, Eleanor must fall back asleep because she wakes in what feels like a different year altogether. Head pounding, she sits up in an empty bed and judges that with the amount of light coming in the window, it must be past noon. 

She stays put and sniffles, half in protest of her own body and half hoping she’ll miraculously feel better if she coughs a few more times. Tahani comes in moments later, bursting through the door so quick and put together that Eleanor feels exhausted just looking at her. 

    “Hi, dear,” Tahani says with a warm, concerned smile when she approaches the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Eleanor runs a hand through her hair, and the simple motion feels like too much stress on her body. She leans back against the headrest and pouts. 

    “Shitty,” she responds, voice barely a whisper. “How’d you know I was sick?”

Tahani purses her lips. “I had a feeling. You slept through breakfast, and I made waffles.”

    “Oh my god, “ Eleanor gasps. “I must be dying. Take me to the emergency room.” 

Tahani chuckles at this, though Eleanor keeps a straight face. “No, I’m serious. That’s insane, am I okay? Is my body even responsive at this point?”

Tahani settles on the edge of the bed, a hand on Eleanor’s forearm. “You’re fine, love, you just have a small cold, it seems. You aren’t nauseous, are you?” 

Eleanor knows she’s right because the simple touch of her skin on hers makes her breathing steady and her head pound a little less. She forgets Tahani’s question for a moment so she must definitely be feverish, but also Tahani’s eyes are a warm chocolate pool she’s swimming in, maybe drowning in, despite the fact that she does this every single day without fail and perhaps should be used to it. 

Finally, she remembers to shake her head in lieu of saying no. 

    “Can I have water?” she asks after multiple failed attempts to get any sound to leave her throat. Tahani hides the curve of her lips, not in the mood for Eleanor’s reprimands if she laughs at her, and so she dips into the other room, only to come back in with a tray of food seconds later. 

    “Oh my god, I’m gonna marry you,” Eleanor groans as soon as she sees the assortment of food Tahani’s brought to her; it’s lacking her daily iced coffee with a triple shot of mocha from McDonald’s, but it’s not like she needs it or could even enjoy it right now anyways. Besides, Tahani has sued McDonald’s something substantial in the past, and besides, she’d never go willingly in a drive-thru. 

    “Only once you can kiss me and not infect me,” Tahani replies lovingly to her comment, perching at the edge of the bed. Eleanor’s heart swells, but she sticks her tongue out at her anyways. 

They’ve done this before, casually joked about the future; Eleanor claimed she could marry Tahani when she paid for her drink at the bar before they were even on a first name basis, and while she’s said it plenty of times since, and admittedly to other people in the past too (her GrubHub driver has heard it countless times), she really means it now. 

When she tastes the first spoonful of the soup in front of her, she means it even more.

    “It was my mother’s recipe,” Tahani says when Eleanor makes exaggerated noises of satisfaction. There’s a fondness in her voice she doesn’t usually convey in reference to her family, and Eleanor notices. 

    “I suppose she was good for something,” she says between spoonfuls. She wipes her mouth with the lace napkin draped across the tray— something far too fancy for someone so disheveled like herself, whether she’s ill or not— but neither she or Tahani give it a second thought.

    “You know, besides making you,” Eleanor flirts, nudging Tahani with her elbow, momentarily forgetting the way her throat burns from speaking when the woman in front of her blushes, head dipped down in appreciative modesty.

    “Even sick, you’re relentless,” Tahani replies, voice light and appreciative as she leans over to brush Eleanor’s hair behind her ears and ru a hand along her forehead in the process, nonchalantly checking for a fever.

    “You love it,” Eleanor counters, and Tahani’s grin is bright and sincere, reaching all the way up to her eyes which don’t leave her girlfriend, always adorable despite how much she sneezes and sniffles in their shared bed. 

    “I do,” she responds simply before bending to press a lingering kiss to the top of Eleanor’s head, closing her eyes as she does so. Eleanor relaxes into her touch, lets out a deep breath and inhales the steam of the soup, and suddenly she doesn’t feel so bad at all. 

Still, she whines when Tahani pulls away. 

    “Now, let me get you a cool cloth for that fever,” she says, walking with purpose once more back into the kitchen. 

Eleanor exhales deeply again, leaning back against the pillows and making herself comfortable.

    “You’re the best, you know that, right?” she says as loud as she can when Tahani comes back in— so, barely a whisper. Tahani’s lips curl instantly, both due to the sentiment and the squeakiness of Eleanor’s voice, and she settles in close to Eleanor’s side closer than she should. She can’t bring herself to care too much about getting sick herself, especially not when Eleanor falls asleep again, this time using Tahani’s shoulder as a pillow. 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr under the same username, sweeterthankarma, where I'm always down to talk about these nerds and how much I adore them.


End file.
